


He's Not There

by starryeyed_dyke



Category: Next to Normal - Kitt/Yorkey
Genre: Broadway, Drug Use, Ghost Gabe, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyed_dyke/pseuds/starryeyed_dyke
Summary: [“Natalie?”]The room is spinning. She’s giggling and delirious and the room is fucking spinning but holy shit, it’s hilarious at the moment.[“Natalie, you fucking idiot.”]aka: Natalie gets taken care of after she goes to a club by someone she can't place.
Kudos: 5





	He's Not There

**Author's Note:**

> anyway one of my best friends got me hooked on next to normal. i've decided we're gonna revive the fandom.

[“Natalie?”]

The room is spinning. She’s giggling and delirious and the room is fucking spinning but holy shit, it’s hilarious at the moment.

[“Natalie, you fucking idiot.”]

She just giggles in response. “Wh- Who’re you…?” She slurs, stumbling over her words as she tries to get her eyes to focus. They wont.

[“Please, get up. How about you lay down?”]

She feels a gentle touch on her hand and suddenly she’s pulled to her feet and is leaning against someone’s warm chest. Whoever it is smells like freshly baked butterscotch cookies (just like mom used to make) and their shirt feels like her favorite sweater. She chuckles again, but her eyes won’t focus. “Where-” she hiccups, “where am I?”

[“Holy shit, what did you take?”]

The person begins to guide her and she’s stumbling over her feet and laughing. There’s an arm wrapped around her waist, a hand holding hers, and she knows she’s leaning against whoever it is. But she cant focus enough to figure it out. “Wha…?”

[“Nat,” the voice is still dripping with concern.]

Was it Henry? No, no, Henry’s mom and dad took him on a camping trip. She was really jealous of his wonderful home life, some days. She hears a door creak open, most likely guided by whoever’s hands.

[“Okay, we’re in your room.” They voice softly, shutting the door behind them and walking almost faster, but still trying not to rush the small girl.]

“We are…?” The words ignite a bounce in her step. It doesn’t last long, as right after, she’s guided to sit on her bed. Or, what she assumes and very much trusts is her bed. It does feel familiar, and when she topples over in a fit of giggles and buries her face in the pillow, it smells familiar.

[“You need water.”]

She feels a hand in her hair, gently brushing it out of her face. She just smiles weakly at it and reaches up to press her palm to the hand. Maybe it’s dad, she thinks. Maybe dad finally came around and started to care about her and not her insane mother. Maybe someone aside from her boyfriend started to care about the invisible girl.

[“Wait here. I’ll get you some.”]

She isn’t able to argue as the soft-hearted touch is pulled away from her face, leaving her face somewhat cold. She shuts her eyes and inhales as she hears the door creak back open and footsteps leave the room. There’s a moment of silence as she comes to terms with the fact that it must be dad. Then again, it didn’t really _sound_ like dad. And dad was always cold, she remembered. It’s why he would wear three layers of a suit in the middle of summer.

The sound of the footsteps return and she tries to sit up, but her limited vision starts to blur and white spots overtake her sight, and she finds herself leaning against the pillow once more. “Imma be sick…”

[“Shit. I’ll get you a trashbin.”]

The voice has returns and she reaches out towards it, but her hand collides with nothing. She thinks nothing of it at the time. She hears the clatter of something being placed on the floor besides her and that cozy feeling hand returns to her face.

[“Can I tie back your hair?”]

She finds herself nodding and the hand, well, hands plural now, brush back her hair and put it into a pony tail. She tries to sit up but it results in the same experience as before.

[“Whoa. Don’t push yourself.”]

She feels as the pleasant touch begins to remove her tight jacket and she leans into the hand rested gently on her back. “Warm…” She breathes, reaching out once more for whoever it is. She feels their side and lets her hand go limp so it falls on their lap. A moment later, she feels as whoever it is begins to pull her legs up on the bed and remove her boots.

[“Can you drink the water for me? Then you can change into your pajamas?”]

She feels as the hand touches her own and guides it to a freezing glass of water on her night stand. A moment later, the arm is around her waist once more and helping her sit up so she can down it. She starts with a little sip, relishing how it hits the back of her throat. She takes a few more sips before she shakes her head. “Done.”

[“It’s okay, you don’t have to finish it.”]

The hand takes the glass of water and she assumes it is placed back on the night stand.

[“Can you change into your pajamas? I’ve got them right here.”]

She shakes her head, stubbornly, for a moment. “Wanna sleep in Henry’s shirt…” She mumbles, beginning to nestle against the warmth. The voice chuckles softly, the hand rubbing circles on her side.

[“You’re not _wearing_ Henry’s shirt.”]

“But I wanna sleep in it.” She slurs, moving her arm to wrap around the waist of the other party. She still isn’t positive who it is. For all she knows, Henry came home early and found her at the club and took her home. How _did_ she get home? She just remembers collapsing in the living room. That was when she heard the voice.

She settles on the fact that it’s probably her dad.

[“How about this: I get Henry’s shirt. You keep his hoodies in your bottom drawer, right? Then you change into that and some sweatpants or something, then you go to sleep?”]

The proposition sounds reasonable enough. She nods. “ _Second_ to botto’ drawer.”

[“My mistake,” they pause, still rubbing at her back and still smelling like cookies and still feeling safe and warm.]

Natalie decides that it isn’t dad. Dad never took care of her like this after she turned eight. But she doesn’t really question who it is, because they’re holding her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters and at the moment, she trusts anyone who holds her like that. Then again, her judgement is impaired due to drugs.

[“Can you get offa me? I’ll get you your clothes.”]

She leans off of who it is, and feels as the mattress shifts as their weight is removed. Then she hears some steps and a bit of rustling, then a hand taking hers.

[“Are you well enough to change on your own?”]

She nods and she starts to stand, more steady now but still leaning against the figure. She realizes that she hasn’t really _looked_ at who it is, however… it doesn’t seem to matter. They make her feel safe. Briefly, she wonders if it was her mother, but… Her mother wasn’t around anymore.

She feels as she’s guided towards the bathroom and clean clothes are set in her grasp. The cooled tile of the restroom floor sends chills up her spine, but she doesn’t complain. A moment later, whoever it is lets go of her and shuts the door behind her. She winces slightly at the bright lights but gets right to the point in changing into the clothes.

Henry’s hoodie smells like smoke and paint and something she can’t quite place. The figure does not smell like that, so she once again crosses Henry off of her list of possible suspects. She changes out of her shirt and bra and toss them in the hamper, wincing as she realizes that she threw up a little on both of them. That was a tomorrow problem, though.

Right now, she just wants to be held again. She changes, fully, into the fresh clothes and glances at herself in the mirror. She doesn’t look _great,_ but a lot better than she would look if she wasn’t being cared for. Her hair is tied back and her clothes are clean and she finishes everything by wiping any makeup she wore off. She runs over her mental list of suspects for the warm touch and gentle hands once more.

Henry? On a camping trip. A lot shorter than whoever it was. Smells like… not cookies.

Dad? While that was still possible, the person was warm. Dad was never warm. It doesn’t sound like dad.

Mom? That… would explain the cookie smell, but she cant remember for the life of her, the last time her mother baked. Also, the voice was pretty masculine or at least androgynous.

She decides to face it. It isn’t anyone she would expect. She must have brought someone home? She decides to open the door and figure it out.

The door handle is cold and the door opens inward. She pulls it ajar and is faced with a tall boy, pacing anxiously. His hair is a bit tangled and seems dirty in the low lighting of her room but not actually greasy. His eyes are piercing blue but worry swam in them. She cocks her head, furrowing her brow, wondering who it is. He makes his way over, arms outstretched, smiling weakly. Despite not knowing him, he seems safe enough. She steps closer, loses her balance, and he catches her.

“Careful.” He warns. “Can I lay you down?”

“Who-” she feels like she’s about to vomit and points at the trash can she knows is still besides her bed. He reacts quickly, setting her down on the floor and dashing away to grab it, shoving it in her face right as she empties the contents of her stomach into it.

“Shh, gods. You look like _shit,_ Nat.” He moves so that she can lean against him and he strokes her hair as she keeps her head above it, waiting as if there will be another wave of nausea. After a minute or two of there being none, she sits back and heaves a sigh.

The man raises a tissue to her lips and wipes away anything that caught on her mouth or chin. She rests her head against his shoulder, whining feebly. “Who… are you…?”

The boy stops dead, his hand stilling in her hair, breathing ceased. She glances up at him, tilting her head in confusion then repeating the question.

“I… Yes, I heard you the first time.”

“Then who are you?” It’s the first strong sentence she’s spoken since she got home.

“Promise not to lose your shit at me?”

“No.”

“That’s… Fair.” The boy sighs and moves away slightly like he knows he’s about to freak her out. Natalie finds herself missing his warmth right away, but doesn’t argue. “I’m your big brother.”

She thinks that time freezes. Her eyes widen and she scrambles backwards which just upsets her stomach more. “You’re _fucking dead._ ”

“I know.”

His answer is simple enough, she has to admit. But she still can’t wrap her mind around it. “I-I’m having delusions like mom. Fuck. No, no. You’re lying. I’m asleep.” There had to be a logical explanation to this that isn’t her going crazy. He reaches his hands out to her, one of them hovering above her knee and the other an inch away from her face.

She leans into it instinctively. His hands are warm and soft and touch her like she’s fragile china and it makes her want to cry like hell. Her hands gravitate to both of his, resting on top of them as she stares at him.

“You. Are. Dead.” She forces the words out but part of her is wishing that it isn’t true and that the last sixteen years have been a lie. “You… Are fucking dead.”

“I know.” He states it again, his thumb tracing over her cheek. “I know, Nat.”

“I must be going insane.” She deadpans it, but she feels tears pricking at her eyes and starting to cascade down her face.

“You really aren’t.” He tries to convince her softly, but she still doesn’t believe him.

“Why? Why am I not going insane? You- Mom saw you. And you tried to _kill_ mom!”

“I didn’t!” He seems insulted and hurt and the way that his eyes shine in fear almost make her believe it.

“Yes you did! She says that you told her to kill herself! To ‘come with me’ or some crap!”

“I meant ‘come, lay down,’ not ‘come to the afterlife via killing yourself’!” He gently pulls away his hands but she grabs at them. They’re still warm. They still feel safe.

Natalie doesn’t know what to say. It… was often that Diana misunderstood things that she or dad said so it wasn’t much of a stretch to-

She needed to stop reasoning with a hallucination! She should call Henry, tell him that if he doesn’t want to deal with delusions and breakdowns then he should break up with her then and there. She yanks her hands away; he speaks to her again. “Can you please just lay down?”

She blinks at him, eyes wide still and hands starting to shake. They did that when she was anxious, or overwhelmed, or just… any negative emotion, really. When her hands shook, usually, she would just form them into fists. If Henry was present, he would take them and rub lotion on them and kiss her knuckles. Now that Gabe’s present (apparently. She still doesn’t really believe that this isn’t a hallucination or dream), he offers his hands.

She shuts her eyes and inhales and exhales slowly, outstretching her own. Gabe intertwines their fingers and hums a melody that she doesn’t recognize but makes her feel safe. “Can you lay down now?”

“…Okay.”

“Good, good job.” He praises her softly, kneeling and then starting to help Natalie stand. Her entire body shakes as she does, but then he’s on his feet and she’s leaning against him. Then she’s at her bed and Gabe is gently guiding her to lay down. He tucks her in and she blinks, cuddling into the warm blankets. She doesn’t really remember the last time her bed was made.

“Gabe…?” Her hand moves to touch at his face and he holds it there, staring down at her with a half smile.

“What’s up, Sunshine?” 

“Are you real?”

He hesitates, then he nods his head. “I’m not _alive,_ but I’m real. I think I’m a ghost.”

“Provide proof.” She crosses her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow.

“Even on drugs you’re… like this, huh?”

“Proof.”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “I cant do that. Because in the morning you’re going to think this was all a dream anyway.”

“That… That’s fair.” She nods her head, pushing herself to sit up and rest her forehead against his shoulder. His hand moves up to run through her hair and begin to detangle it. “But… _can’t_ or _won’t_?”

“Wont.”

She just nods her head. Gabe doesn’t move yet. She doesn’t know what to say until he begins to stand and she is forced to take her head off his shoulder. “Stay-” she cuts herself off with a weak sob.

He freezes, eyes widening, but he doesn’t disagree.

“I can’t- Please- I don’t want to be alone. Henry- Henry’s in the middle of the woods with no cell reception. I- _Please._ Don’t leave me. Mom left. Dad’s not… not here. Not mentally. And for all I know you might not be but I need you to be. I, holy shit. I’m still talking to a ghost.”

“I won’t leave. It’s okay.” He steps away and turns off the light and she hears the click of her door locking. Gabe must know she does that instinctively and it gives her anxiety when it’s left unlocked. Then there’s footsteps again and the bed sinks and a hand moves to find her face. She rests her cheek into his palm. “Can I come under the covers? Do you want to cuddle?”

“Yes. Yes, to both. Please.”

He makes a noise of acknowledgement as she feels the covers shift and his body move closer. She shifts so her head is pressed against his chest, then she moves his hands so one is wrapped around her waist and the other is under her cheek.

“Gabe?”

“What is it, sunshine?”

“Are you going to be gone in the morning?” In the darkness, she peers up at him. He’s not very noticeable in the dark but it doesn’t look like he’s fading from vision.

“I don’t… I don’t know, Nat.”

She just nods her head. Her eyes flutter closed and she nestles against him, clutching him like her life depends on it.

In the morning, he’s not there.

**Author's Note:**

> I simply think that gabe is a great ghost older brother. and i am simply correct.


End file.
